<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>to the world we dream about by ladyerinys</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824554">to the world we dream about</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyerinys/pseuds/ladyerinys'>ladyerinys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Claude is Hermes, F/M, Ferdinand is Persephone and Hubert is Hades, Hadestown AU, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired by Hadestown, M/M, Sad Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:49:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyerinys/pseuds/ladyerinys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the road to hell, there is a poor girl working on a song, with her eyes to the stars and a head full of beautiful, impossible dreams. There is a young boy looking for something to eat who turns his face to the wind and lets it bite.</p>
<p>Her name is Annette. His name is Felix. They aren’t in love yet, but they will be.</p>
<p>It’s an old song. You already know how it ends.</p>
<p>(Or: a Hadestown/Fire Emblem crossover.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to the world we dream about</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>one.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the road to hell, there is a railroad line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The station punctuates the dust-coated landscape with a grim finality. No one remembers when it was built; it is simply there, and always has been, and always will be. It is a terminus. It is a harbinger. It carries a single passenger, who arrives from the underworld each year with his arms full of flowers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ferdinand, the god of spring. Married, for reasons no one can fathom, to Hubert, the king of the mines, and the earth, and the dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one else rides the train. At least, no one who ever comes back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the road to hell, there is a poor girl working on a song, with her eyes to the stars and a head full of beautiful, impossible dreams. There is a young boy looking for something to eat who turns his face to the wind and lets it bite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her name is Annette. His name is Felix. They aren’t in love yet, but they will be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an old song. You already know how it ends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>two. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix is used to running, and he’s good at it, and he runs until he’s out of breath and trembling and there’s nowhere else left for him to run to. He’s hungry — starving, really, surviving on scraps of bread and half-eaten fruit — and there’s never enough to go around. Felix is familiar with the unforgiving clouds, and the dark sky, and the rolling thunder and lightning that splits the horizon with the mighty wrath of an unfamiliar god. Felix understands that there are those who make choices, and those who </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> choices, and when the rain hits the earth, it taunts him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The town on the railroad line is poor but no poorer than any other he’s been to before, and he doesn’t plan on staying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, Felix is desperate; dreams of a belly full of food and a warm bed and a voice that begs him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He dreams of outrunning the wind itself. He remembers the weather as it used to be: the sun on his skin; the warmth on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They whisper in the back of his mind, the fates, howling like the wind. They mark him with their teeth; they kiss him and call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>ours </span>
  </em>
  <span>because they’re hungry, too. And Felix runs, and runs, and keeps on running, but he can’t outrun them forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the town on the railroad line, there lives a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. She looks at him like she can see him; </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>see him. And she says:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>three. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come home with me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time she says this, he asks </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who are you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the girl who’s gonna marry you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is so painfully earnest that he chokes. He’s met girls like this before: girls who treat love like it’s a force of nature and nature like it’s something that can be reasoned with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m working on a song, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she tells him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s a song that’s gonna bring back spring. It’s a song that’ll fix everything. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix is a hungry young boy, and he doesn’t believe her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come home with me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she says, and her voice sounds like music. She lives with Claude, the god of thieves, and this shields her from some of the worst of the world; lets her believe in the goodness of humanity and other sentimental lies. Her song is never finished, and she continues working, and Felix hopes she’ll give up on it before someone finally confronts her with the truth that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No song, no matter how good, can bring the world back into harmony when so many people around her are committed to tearing it apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette asks him to marry her; says this is the thing she needs to finally finish the song. Wanting, treacherous, treasonous wanting, blooms in his chest. He imagines himself in her home; in her bedroom; in her </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sing it first, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says. He wants - no, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> - a way out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You wanna take me home? Sing the song. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she does. It isn’t finished yet, but she does. For a single, shining instant, the world comes into stark relief, and he wonders how he could have ever been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He marries her beneath a willow tree, and winter turns into spring.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>four.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each year, the train comes later. They know not to mention it; </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> except for Claude, who escapes the wrath of the gods by virtue of being one himself. Ferdinand carries a suitcase and a bottle of wine, which he pours, for everyone, beneath the summer sun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette toasts him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>To the world we dream about, and the world we live in now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, in their bed, Annette’s mouth is soft, and she comes undone with a cry that startles the birds into flight. Afterwards, she falls asleep with her head on his chest, and Felix, almost in spite of himself, decides to stay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>five.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette is sunlight and warmth, soft where Felix has only ever known brittle and hope where he expects to find decay. She fits into his arms like she was made for him; like they were made for </span>
  <em>
    <span>each other;</span>
  </em>
  <span> like his wife is someone he’s somehow always known.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her song still isn’t finished, but that’s fine. They’ll manage, somehow, just like they’ve been managing so far. It’s still spring. They have time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>six.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The train comes for Ferdinand before they’re ready. Ferdinand complains, but they know, as does he, that his complaints mean nothing</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hubert, King of the Mines, the man on the chromium throne, the conductor of the electric city, has called his husband back to the underworld. There’s nothing left for Ferdinand to do but pack a suitcase. And he does, and he leaves, and summer leaves with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert owns everything, or so they say. He’s meticulous; he keeps his own books and checks them regularly to deter thieves. Every cent is his. Every penny is forged in his mines. Every dollar is in his name. He rides the train to collect his husband, and when the car door opens, and he steps out from within, the world grows colder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re early, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says Ferdinand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>growls Hubert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix watches the train until it disappears. What does it feel like to have more wealth than you’ll ever need? What does it feel like to know the person you love will never go hungry?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>seven.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The winds are changing. A storm brews on the horizon, and Felix is the only one able to see the clouds as they gather overhead. He watches the sky, which burns indigo. Annette works on the song, which is still never finished. She buries herself in her melodies, and she never sees the storm coming, even as Felix begs her to </span>
  <em>
    <span>look up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, he manages to scrape together enough for both of them. But food becomes scarce. The wind tears at his clothes and steals the matches from his hands. Felix is a hungry young boy, and his wife is a stranger to the wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loves her. He will always love her. It’s his own fault that he ever believed that was enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>eight.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The King of the Mines offers him a choice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re strong, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could use workers like you to build my wall. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chips are down. The dice are loaded. The gun is pointed directly at his head. Felix understands that there are those who make choices, and there are those who </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> choices. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He descends into the depths of hell and doesn’t look back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>nine.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where is he? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Annette cries, her voice desperate and raw when she learns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Claude, where’s Felix? Where is my husband?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Down below, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says the god of thieves. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He called your name before he went. Guess you weren’t there to hear him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette is a young girl working on a song, and her husband is gone. The fates whisper this to her: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who do you think you are to walk this road alone? Who are you to walk out of hell? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>( I am someone in love, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks, and then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait for me. I’m coming.</span>
  </em>
  <span> )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How do I get him back? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She asks Claude, steely-eyed and determined. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude is the god of thieves. Trickery intrigues him, and it’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so long</span>
  </em>
  <span> since he’s managed to trick the King of the Mines. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He begins: </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll have to take the long way down. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>ten.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert surveys the workers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do we build the wall? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thunders, and they respond like drones: </span>
  <em>
    <span>It keeps out the enemy.  We have, and they have not. We build the wall to keep us free.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to him, sits Ferdinand. Ferdinand is a fertility god: amidst the vultures, vipers, and carrion of the underground, he is completely adrift.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix looks at him and thinks of Annette; her wide eyes, her small hands, her unending belief in the goodness of the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why do we build the wall?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix lifts his pickaxe and lets it fall with a deafening </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>eleven. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shades of the underground cling to Ferdinand when he passes. They’re desperate for a chance to see the sky reflected in his eyes, the sun in the copper shades of his hair, the moon in the suppressed longing of his faraway gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bottles the wind and the rain for those who can pay. He keeps sunshine in a jar for customers with expensive tastes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Our Lord of the Underground, </span>
  </em>
  <span>they call him in adoration, worshipping at his feet. He lets them speak freely about their concerns and plies them with the water of the Lethe until they wander away with their pickaxes, forgetting their own names, let alone what reasons they had to feel so afraid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The workers continue to build the wall, and Ferdinand watches with a bottle of wine, drunk on the fruit of the vine and praying for his own oblivion. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>twelve.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix remembers fields of flowers soft beneath his feet. He remembers walking beneath the open sky, Annette’s hand in his, as he turned his face to the sun. He remembers the sound of her voice as she sang; not despite the world burning around them, but because of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trusted him, and he rewarded this trust by leaving her behind. He wonders if she’s still there, on the road to hell where they met. He wonders if she’s still singing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>thirteen.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette walks, and walks, and walks. She walks, and the stones echo her song; she walks until she’s reached the ends of the earth and her heartbeat beats like the sound of drums. She sings to the stones that form the wall of the underground, and she enters the depths of the underground with a song. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come home with me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she cries when she finds him, holding him in her arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s me. Whatever happened, I’m to blame. You can come home with me again. I’ll sing us home again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says Felix. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, Annette, you don’t understand. You can’t. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Annette sings, rivers stop to let her cross; rocks part for her to pass; mountains lower for her to climb. She still doesn’t believe in </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>fourteen.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not from around here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says the King of the Mines when he finds her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go back to where you came from. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He takes a step forward, but Ferdinand places a hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hubert. I recognize this girl. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette is a poor girl with her heart on her sleeve, and she raises her voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m here for my husband. I’m not leaving without him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The King of the Mines looks at her, and he says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>He made his choice. He signed the deal himself. He belongs to me, now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shatters, splinters, and falls like shards of glass. And everything is wrong, is wrong, is wrong.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>It isn’t true, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says Annette. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not Felix. He loves me. He couldn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, little songbird </span>
  </em>
  <span>says Hubert. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he didn’t love you as much as you thought.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why the struggle? Why the strain? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The fates taunt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why waste your breath? What’s done is done. Nothing ever changes, anyhow.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>fifteen.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert is afraid. Ferdinand knows this because he knows his husband. Ferdinand recognizes that Hubert looks past the sorrow bursting from Annette to see his kingdom falling in a mess of rubble and ash. Annette is a poor girl who ignores the laws of kings and the logic of the underworld for the boy she loves, and this love is so powerful that it could shake the stars from the sky. And the King of the Mines, the god of the dead, the conductor of the electric city, is afraid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She loves that boy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ferdinand says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She has the kind of love for him that you and I once had. What are you so afraid of? Let them go.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Give them a piece and they’ll take it all, </span>
  </em>
  <span>growls Hubert. (This isn’t an answer.) He won’t look at Ferdinand, looking instead at the sea of workers beneath them, toiling away at an endless, ever-growing wall, their hammers and pickaxes echoing as they chip at the stone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long are you going to ask about this? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How long? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Asks Ferdinand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just as long as winter turns to spring. Just as long as the sun rises in the sky. Just as long as I’m your </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>husband</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hubert</span>
  </em>
  <span> pleads Ferdinand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Give them a chance. Let her sing for you. One song; that’s all I ask.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert turns to look at him. His husband; the man he must’ve loved, once, in some distant version of the past. Perhaps, this is why he says:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bring her in.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>sixteen.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Heavy and hard is the heart of the king. King of iron, king of steel. The heart of the king loves everything like the hammer loves the nail. He covers the world in the color of rust. He scrapes the sky and scars the earth, and he comes down heavy and hard on us.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>( Oh, it’s about me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>says Hubert from his throne. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Go on, </span>
  </em>
  <span>whispers Claude. )</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But even that hardest of hearts unhardened suddenly, when he saw him there: Ferdinand, in his mother’s garden. Sun on his shoulders, wind in his hair, the smell of the flowers that he held in his hand, and the pollen that fell from his fingertips.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And suddenly Hubert was only a man.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>( Hubert pales. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where did you get that melody?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to him on his throne, Ferdinand’s eyes are wet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let him finish. </span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The more he has, the more he holds, the greater the weight of the world on his shoulders. See how he labors beneath that load: afraid to look up, and afraid to let go. He's grown so afraid that he'll lose what he owns, but what he doesn't know is that what he's defending is already gone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Singing la la la la la la la…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette is a poor girl, but she has a gift, and her gift brings the world back into harmony. Ferdinand takes his husband’s hand as Annette sings. And there, in front of his court, in front of his workers, in front of the hungry young boy and the poor girl working on a song - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They dance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>seventeen.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You finished it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>gasps Felix, kissing every inch of her exposed skin: her lips, her nose, her jaw. Despite the chill of the underworld, she is warm, and soft, and smells like the world up above. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Take me home with you. Let’s leave, let’s go home, right now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a long road through the cold and dark. For now, the world has come back into tune, but there’s no telling whether or not this harmony will last the night. She can’t promise him a bed full of feathers, or a banquet table set for a king, or a comfortable life free from struggle. She promises him only that she’ll walk the road with him; any way the wind blows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Will you let me walk with you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She asks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will you walk with me, no matter what happens? </span>
  </em>
  <span> He kisses her again, and again, and again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I do. I will. I do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>eighteen.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t know this, but their freedom comes with a condition. Hubert, the iron king, the lord of the underground, fears the demands that his people clamor for. The workers came to the underground in search of food; now, they shout for their freedom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let her walk out of hell with him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hubert decides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but if she turns back to look for him, he’s mine. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette is a girl with a head full of beautiful, impossible dreams, but even she has doubts. It’s only fair to let the strength of those doubts decide their fate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>nineteen. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doubt comes in, and Annette walks alone. Her lantern swings in her hand as she takes step after uncertain step towards the gates of the underworld. The fates howl like the roaring of the wind, drowning out the sound of Felix behind her. Annette hears only her own heartbeat, and the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, which roars like the tide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who is she to think she can walk out of hell? Who does she think she is, to think Felix would follow her into the cold and dark? Who is she to believe Hubert wouldn’t play a cruel trick or lay a trap to convince her to leave alone?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette walks, and the cold wind blows over her skin. She shivers and draws her coat around her for warmth. She saw how the world could be, once. She walks on the road alone, and she thinks only of the ugly, cruel world as it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix isn’t following her. Felix can’t be following her. She knows this, but she has to be sure, and so she turns around suddenly. She turns to look. She sees —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Annette. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Felix gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like before, he calls out her name, and then he’s gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>twenty. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an old song. It’s a tragedy. This is how it ends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But here’s the thing about tragedies: we know how it ends, and we still sing.  We begin them again, and again, and again, each time hoping they’ll turn out differently. Hoping that, somehow, he won’t take the bargain; he’ll let them leave; she won’t look back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Annette was a poor girl, but she had a gift to give: she could make you see, in spite of yourself, how the world could be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the road to hell, on the railroad line, a man with flowers steps off a train. Even after the coldest, darkest night, he returns with the spring, and the sun, and the breeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an old song; a sad song; a tale of a love from long ago. It’s a song about a poor girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, naive to the ways of the world, and a hungry young boy who walks with the wind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her name is Annette. His name is Felix. He asks </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anybody have a match? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an old song. We’re gonna sing it again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not sure if this has been done before, but I wanted to put my own spin on this concept regardless!</p>
<p>Also, in case it isn't obvious, large sections of this work are literally lyrics from Hadestown. I mostly relied on the OBC, but Epic III is taken from the concept album version of these lyrics.</p>
<p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>